


Scorch Marks

by Sintavra



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, For the first few chapters it seems like I hate Ford, Gen, I SWEAR I LOVE HIM BUT HE'S MADE SOME DICK MOVES, Injury Recovery, Just gonna make that clear from the start, Major Character Injury, No-one is going through the portal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Talking things out (finally), Things will eventually work out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintavra/pseuds/Sintavra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1982. A bitter fight ends somewhat differently, giving two brothers an unexpected opportunity to mend their bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m selfish? _I’m selfish_ Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school!? I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won’t even listen!”

Time slowed as Stan felt his insides freeze with an icy combination of hurt and anger. Shockingly the anger was winning over the hurt; and it hurt like a son of a bitch so this was really saying something. He used to think nothing could be more painful than that moment over ten years ago, when Ford turned away from him and let him get thrown out onto the street. However, hearing Ford say that his entire life was worthless definitely beat it.

It didn’t matter that he was right.

But no, he was _much_ more angry than he was hurt. He had done nothing but suffer for the last ten years because of a fucking accident he made as a _teenager._ A teenager who was treated as the lesser of two his entire life, who was scared of facing the world without his brother by his side. And he had to fucking face the world without him anyway! He had walked through life alone with no-one who cared if he was tired or hungry or cold or scared. But no, Ford’s problems were _so_ much more important because he didn’t get to go to his stupid fucking dream school. As if he didn’t make something of himself anyways, like Stan always knew he would. He had more than paid for his mistake, and he was really fucking pissed that Ford was still willing to dangle it over his head even after all these years.

So he lashed out.

“Well listen to this!” Stan felt around in his pocket for his lighter. “You want me to get rid of this book? Fine, I’ll get rid of it right now!” With quick fingers he pulled the lighter out and sparked the flint, holding the flame up to the leather-bound book. Ford’s horrified eyes fixated onto his journal.

“No!” He grabbed onto the book to stop its motion toward the flame. “You don’t understand!” Ford pleaded. But Stan was far past giving a rat’s ass about whatever mess Ford had landed himself in. He jerked the book away from Ford’s grasping fingers and brought it back to the lighter.

“You said you wanted me to have it so I’ll do what I want with it!”

“My research!” Ford cried out desperately and suddenly caught Stan in a tackle, sending the book flying from his hands. He stood and tried to run to the journal but sprawled face-down onto the ground instead after Stan stuck out a foot to trip him, quickly snatching up the book as he ran for the door leading to the portal room.

“Stanley! Give it back!” Ford yelled as he caught up to Stan and shoved them both through the door. They smashed into a control panel as they grappled for the book, and Stan faintly registered the sounds of whirring and electricity crackling before his mind refocused on his fight with Ford.

“If you want it back you’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Stan shouted as he pressed his hand to Ford’s face to shove him to the ground, not counting on Ford’s strong grasp yanking him down over top of him. They both had their hands on the book, pulling it back and forth in a furious tug-of-war.

“You left me behind you jerk!” Stan roared in pure rage, and nearly had the book wrenched out from between Ford’s fingers. “It was supposed to be us forever, you ruined my life!”

“You ruined your own life!” Ford roared back before bringing his foot up to Stan’s chest, freeing his grasp on the book by pushing him up and away.

And pressed Stan backward onto the red-hot sigil emblazoned on the side of his desk.

Stan’s agonized scream echoed through the lab.

“Stanley!” Ford cried out in horrified shock as he stood up. He watched Stan slump onto his side, clutching at his scorched shoulder. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you alri-ow!“ Ford wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Stan’s fist smashed into his face, sending him stumbling backwards into the portal chamber before landing hard on the portal’s final activation lever. He tilted his gaze upward to meet Stan’s enraged face.

But he wasn’t there?

Ford tilted his head in confusion before hearing the pounding of Stan’s feet as he sprinted out of the lab.

“Stanley! Come back!” Ford yelled pleadingly to Stan’s quickly retreating back, registering the active portal crackling behind him just enough to pound his fist on the lever’s ‘Kill Sequence’ button. Ford pushed himself to his feet and ran after Stan, guilt and regret washing over him in waves as he thought about the horrible pain he just inflicted on his brother.

“I’m sorry!”

He never noticed the journal lying face-down on the ground in his haste.

~~~

_You ruined your own life! You ruined your own life! You ruined your own life!_

Stan heard nothing but Ford’s scathing words repeating over and over in his head as he threw himself into the elevator, frantically pounding at the buttons to make it close. He leaned his good shoulder against a wall and stared blankly at the door as the elevator began to ascend back up to the shack. He barely felt the throbbing of his shoulder as he was too focused on the agony settling in his heart, sending cracks across it in its wake. He used the heel of his hand to wipe away the tears streaming down his face, before clapping it over his mouth to stifle the sobs trying to wrench their way out of his throat. He was less than nothing in his brother’s eyes.

Just filth to be burned away.

He needed to leave. He needed to get to his car and drive as far away as he could from this godforsaken place before he completely fell to pieces.

The elevator door slid open and Stan wasted no time sprinting toward the front door, flinging it open and running out into the snowstorm. He got about fifty feet off the porch before realizing he couldn’t see where he parked his car through the blowing snow. A crashing sound made him look back at Ford’s rickety house, and saw him standing in the doorway trying to see through the heavy snowfall.

“Stanley, wait!” He heard Ford cry out frantically when he spotted his brother. Fear-tinged alarm burned through Stan as he suddenly veered his path toward the forest and barreled through the treeline, trying desperately to escape his brother. He darted and zig-zagged through the trees in an attempt to throw Ford off his trail. He could hear Ford yelling for him to stop from somewhere behind him, which only made him pick up the pace and run faster. When he was forced to stop and catch his breath he luckily spotted some low-lying pine branches a fair distance away. He ran toward the branches swiftly and dove behind them, withdrawing deep into the needles to hide before Ford could find him.

Through the underbrush he spied Ford coming to a stop in a clearing about twenty feet away from his hiding spot. The storm had since quieted and now big white flakes of snow were falling silently in the forest as Ford wandered around, trying to make sense of Stan’s tracks. Stan watched Ford unknowingly walk closer and closer to him in ever-growing panic, and started digging for something he could throw. When Ford was five feet away from his hiding spot Stan triumphantly pulled a fist-sized chunk of ice out of the snow and threw it as hard as he could into the forest behind him.

_Crack!_

“Stanley!” Ford yelled as he quickly skirted the pine branches and began running toward the source of the sound. As his brother’s footsteps faded into the woods, Stan let out a sigh of relief. However the relief didn’t last very long as the adrenaline from the chase wore off, leaving Stan with the full brunt of the pain from his burnt shoulder.

“Fuuuck.” He hissed through clenched teeth as the brand throbbed, sending fiery spikes of agony shooting across his back and shoulders. He was trying to regulate his breathing to try to get the pain under control when he looked down at his left hand involuntarily clenching into the snow on the ground. He raised a handful of snow into the air and contemplated it for a second.

“Eh, I’ve done stupider things than this.” He said dismissively, before taking the snow and pressing it to his seared flesh. The pain in his shoulder intensified for long seconds, making him clench his teeth harder and choke back a groan, before slowly it began to ease. The handful he started with melted, so he grabbed another and repeated the process. As he held the second handful to his shoulder he assessed his options.

_It probably won’t be long before Ford realizes he’s following nothing._ Stan thought bleakly to himself. _So I can either try to run back and look for my car, or find a better hiding place to try and last until Ford’s given up._

A long howl sounded off in the distance.

_OK LOOKING FOR THE CAR IT IS._

Stan clambered to his feet, brushing the snow off his pants and jacket before walking back in the direction he’s pretty sure(?) he came from. He walked warily through the woods for a few minutes, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Ford returning. As soon as Stan began to relax his boot caught on a root sticking out of the snow and he stumbled forward a few steps, catching himself by grasping at a tree. He hung his head and took a couple breaths, steeling himself before pushing his body upright to continue walking. So intent he was on his path, the glowing red eyes that flared to life and fixated on him as he passed completely escaped his notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm really excited to be sharing this story with you guys as I've been thinking of writing it for a while now. This is the first Gravity Falls fanfiction I've ever posted so please try not to shit all over it TOO badly lol. Btw this hasn't been beta-read so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> P.S. Come talk to me on my slightly-below-average blog, vestorthedestroyer.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up where we left Stan, unknowingly caught in the sights of some mysterious monster...

A terrified scream pierced the night.

Ford was squatting near the ground examining the snow for signs of Stan’s trail when he heard it, and it startled him enough to make him lose his balance and fall back hard on his ass. Dread clenched his chest in a vise when he recognized Stan’s voice crying out in fear.

“I’m coming Stanley!” Ford yelled and launched himself into a sprint toward the source of the scream. As he ran, Ford readied the crossbow he’d hurriedly picked up while trying to stop Stan from disappearing into the night. He knew Gravity Falls _far_ too well to search the woods for his brother without some sort of weapon to protect himself from the creatures that hunted in the forest at night.

And one of those creatures had Stan.

Ford felt a sharp stab of guilt penetrate through his focus; Stan wouldn’t be out in the woods at night, likely getting attacked by some horrible monster if it wasn’t for him. What the hell was the matter with him? He hadn’t seen Stan for over ten years before tonight, and he’d acted like it didn’t even matter to him at all! Like Stan was some half-forgotten acquaintance instead of his twin brother. Ford had been under crushing amounts of stress for weeks due to Bill’s betrayal, and clearly was still angry about Stan sabotaging his project all those years ago, but he could’ve given his brother at least a _slightly_ warmer welcome. And when Stan naturally refused to do what he asked, what did Ford do in return? Try to reason with him? Ask if they could try to talk things out later when everything had settled? Told Stan how badly he’d fucked things up so he would understand how urgent the situation was?

Admitted to Stan that he’d missed him?

Nope. He didn’t do any of those things. What he did instead was poke at all of Stanley’s insecurities and sore spots, foolishly trying to provoke him into action when he should have remembered that that approach with Stanley only ever hurt and angered him.

Looking back, he came to the painful realization that Stan didn’t refuse to leave with his journal simply to be petty; well it was Stan so there was probably _some_ pettiness involved. But what reason did he give Stan to do what he asked of him? He had probably travelled for days to get to Gravity Falls from New Mexico as quickly as he did, and got only Ford’s nasty side exposed by weeks of strain and guilt when he arrived.

And then he burned his brother.

He’d branded his own fucking brother.

So yeah, in hindsight he’s realizing that he didn’t give Stanley much reason to care about his demands.

And that’s what they were.

Demands.

 _If we get out of this alive, I think I need to have a long overdue talk with my brother._ Ford thought resignedly as he slowed to a stop at the edge of a clearing. At its centre stood a hulking beast with long spindly limbs covered in shaggy black hair; several greasy strands hung low in its face, leaving only its glowing red eyes and mouth filled with jagged teeth visible. The creature clutched Stan in one powerful clawed hand and watched him twist frantically in its grasp with smug triumph; not unlike a spider watching a fly try to break free from its web.

“Hey!” Ford yelled, loading the crossbow with a rowan-wood arrow and bringing it up to aim at the creature. It turned slightly to catch Ford in the malevolent red glow of its gaze.

“Put him down!” Ford demanded, and fired at the arm clutching Stanley’s terrified form in its crushing grip. The creature let out a pain-filled roaring screech so powerful it forced away every snowflake in the air, with more to take their place floating serenely down from the sky. The beast turned to fully face Ford, staring savagely down at him.

“STANFORD! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” Stan yelled angrily as he struggled to free himself. The monster glanced down at its captive prey before quickly flicking its gaze back to Ford. Its mouth twisted into a disturbing parody of a smile before it suddenly flung Stan into a tree. Stan didn’t make a sound as his body collided hard with the trunk, and Ford watched in distress as he slid down the tree to land with a crunch in the snow.

“STANLEY!” Ford cried out, horrified. He turned to the beast with sudden and _powerful_ fury.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Ford snarled, loading another bolt into the crossbow with practiced ease. The creature yanked the arrow out of its arm, ignoring the smoking of its hand as it held the rowan wood and primly dropped the bolt on the ground. The beast held out its hands, brandishing the long claws on the end of each finger like knives. Ford glared viciously at it in return and braced the crossbow against his shoulder, he and the creature beginning to circle each other.

“Come on, bring it you nightmare!” Ford yelled defiantly. The monster suddenly paused in its path, a death-rattle sound that Ford recognized as laughter whistling from between its jutting teeth.

And charged.

~~~

Stan forced his eyes open after lying dazed on the ground for several moments. His eyes drifted upward just in time to see Ford fire an arrow directly into the monster’s eye. It fell hard into a kneeling position with another one of its unsettling roars, clutching at its face with a massive clawed hand. Suddenly the creature’s roar abruptly cut off and it began to scuttle jerkily backward into the forest, crunching and cracking sounds trailing behind it. The creature kept its newly marred gaze fixated on both Ford and Stan as it edged further and further from view, somehow staring them both in the eye simultaneously. The beast’s remaining red eye glowed menacingly as its black form melded into the shadows of the dark forest; getting slowly further and further away until the light winked out in between snowflakes and silence reigned once more.

Stan almost tried to push himself to his feet before he realized that he could barely move his arm, the pain that began to radiate from where arm met shoulder making him unwilling to try. He then also noticed the fire racing across his torso each time he inhaled and took shallower breaths to try and ease it. Dimly, Stan supposed he should probably care a bit more about those but he was slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness with every passing second.

So he really didn’t give a shit at the moment.

Stan’s eyes shot open as he suddenly registered the sensation of hands grasping at his shoulders, shaking them lightly to try and rouse him. Unfortunately the shaking sent bolts of agony shooting up and down Stan’s arm, causing him to cry out pitifully in pain and try to curl in on himself. The hands quickly leapt away, and Stan looked up to see his brother’s blurry face staring down at him. Vaguely he realized Ford had been speaking to him worriedly the entire time, but Stan was barely able to process one out of every three syllables he said.

“Stanl-… wake… so sorr-… be oka-… I’m sorr-…”

Stan tried his best to pay attention, he really did. But blackness was creeping in on the edges of his vision, and he was just so damn _tired_.

“Jus’ gonna sleep for a lil bit,” Stan slurred, completely ignoring the panicked note that had entered Ford’s voice as his eyes flickered closed.

And he saw no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Ideally I'd like to post a chapter once a week but that may change between work and getting ready to go back to school, so I'll keep you guys posted. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monster's been driven off, but what now?

From a bird’s eye view, the icy forest of Gravity Falls looked almost serene. Fluffy snowflakes were slowly drifting down from the sky, covering the trees and the ground in a blanket of silvery-white. But appearances can be very deceiving, and in this case they most certainly were. Somewhere deep in the forest, Stanford Pines was hunched over the unconscious form of his twin brother Stanley; trying fruitlessly to rouse him.

“Stanley, please wake up.” Ford begged, gently grasping at his brother’s wrist to check for a pulse. He found it thankfully, and let out a sigh of relief. But Stan remained unconscious, and Ford knew that it was likely due to a nasty combination of shock and at least a mild concussion. Ford needed to get Stan back to the house quickly so he could get him warm and assess his injuries; he wanted to see what he had to deal with before deciding whether to seek better medical attention than his own. Ford figured from what Stan had revealed about his checkered past that he probably wouldn’t appreciate being taken to a hospital unless it was absolutely necessary.

And even then he’d probably be pretty pissed.

Ford got to his feet and surveyed the area, looking around at the shadowy terrain in increasing dismay. Just how were they supposed to get back? They were lost deep in the woods at night, not to mention that Stan was injured and unconscious.  Factoring in the risks of aggravating Stan’s wounds by dragging him through the forest as well as the probable return of the terrifying beast that attacked them, their chances of getting home looked pretty grim.

“That was very brave of you.” A voiced suddenly rumbled from behind him.

“Holy fu-!” Ford shouted as his body jerked hard in startled alarm, whipping around to point his crossbow at whatever had spoken. A giant bear’s head poked through the shadowy darkness beyond the treeline, peering at him curiously.

“Stay back!” Ford yelled as he hastily loaded a bolt into the crossbow. “Go on, get out of here!”

“Take it easy.” The bear said soothingly as it lumbered into the clearing. Ford felt a seed of dread take root and steadily grow in his chest as the large creature exposed more and more of its form to the moonlight. Ford instinctively settled into a kneel to better obscure Stan’s prone form from view as well as get into a steadier position to aim the crossbow at the beast and its seven growling heads.

“Bear heads!” The lead head growled suddenly at the others. “Settle down!” Ford watched in intrigue as one by one, the more animalistic of the creature’s heads fell into sullen silence. “Sorry about that, they get excited when they smell something other than snow out here.” It took a few more steps toward him. “Nice to meet you, I’m the Multi-Bear.”

“Uh…” Ford said stupidly, kind of at a loss for words. “I’m Ford.” He slowly got to his feet, warily keeping his eyes on the bear the entire time.  “You’re not here to eat us, are you?” Ford asked hesitantly, holding the crossbow in a ready grip.

“Of course not, you two would ruin my diet,” It said teasingly, laughing as it watched Ford raise the crossbow a bit higher. “Just joking,” It said as it raised a paw in what Ford took to be a soothing gesture. The bear’s lead head suddenly leveled him with an inquiring look.  “I actually just wanted to talk to the human who managed to get the best of a wraithclaw.” The beast admitted.

“Wraithclaw? Is that what that thing was?” Ford asked curiously, relaxing enough to release his grip on the crossbow and sling it across his back.

“Yes. It’s been causing trouble around these parts for a few weeks now.” The bear revealed. “They don’t typically hang around for this long, so hopefully that pin to the eye you gave it will convince it to move along.” Multi-Bear paused thoughtfully. “Though it’ll probably come back to tear you to shreds first.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Ford said despairingly as he glanced over at Stan, noticing his arm lying in an unnatural position on the ground. Swiftly but delicately he threaded Stan’s arm out of his jacket sleeve, pulling it across his chest to rest in the ‘V’ created by the open zipper of his coat as a makeshift sling. Stan groaned quietly once and fell silent, making Ford sigh sadly once the task was completed. “And there’s no way I can get us home before it returns.”

“You might make it if you left him here.” Multi-Bear suggested, pointing a claw to where Stan lay behind him. Ford jerked his gaze away from Stan to glare daggers at the beast.

“I won’t leave him behind!” Ford yelled with incredulous rage, and then froze. 

_You left me behind you jerk!_

Ford gave his head a shake, trying to dispel Stan’s angry words from before that echoed accusingly in his mind. “No.” he continued more calmly. “If escaping means I have to leave my brother here, than the wraithclaw will just have to tear us both to shreds.”

“Well there’s no need for that.” Multi-Bear said with a shrug. “I can get the two of you home safe.”

“You’d really do that?” Ford asked in astonishment, which rapidly faded to suspicion as he narrowed his eyes at the beast. “Didn’t you just try to convince me to leave my brother to get eaten?” he asked critically. The bear’s lead head rolled its eyes and scoffed.

“I didn’t try to convince you of anything.” Multi-Bear said dismissively as he walked over to Ford, bending a leg so Ford could climb onto his back. Ford eyed the creature skeptically before climbing on, prompting the beast to carefully scoop up Stan in one of its paws and begin walking. “I just wanted to see if you were selfish enough to actually do it.” The bear admitted bluntly. “Good thing you’re not, because I wouldn’t have felt very guilty leaving you for wraithclaw food.”

Hearing that made Ford’s face twist into a troubled frown; he leaned forward just enough to catch a glimpse of his wounded twin held securely in the Multi-Bear’s giant paw, and felt a dart of shame pierce his heart.

“Yeah, good thing.”

~~~

“I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Ford said feelingly while he gently took Stan from the Multi-Bear’s paw. Surprisingly the beast had made it all the way to the front door of the house without needing any direction from Ford; not that it would’ve helped seeing as Ford couldn’t recognize any familiar land markers in the growing darkness. When Ford had voiced his confusion out loud as the structure came into view, Multi-Bear simply claimed that nearly every creature in Gravity Falls knew of the shack in the woods; though the mysterious rumblings it often sent through the ground coupled with the scent of radioactive waste caused most to give it a wide berth. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Multi-Bear replied, gently swatting at one of its heads when he noticed it trying sneakily to bite at Ford’s coat. “It’s not every day you see a human fight off an evil forest spirit with nothing but a crossbow.” The bear said with a chuckle.

“Heh, I suppose not.” Ford said dryly, a corner of his mouth quirking upward into a sheepish smile. It faded quickly as his expression became serious once more. “I won’t forget this, Multi-Bear.” Ford said gravely. “You could’ve easily left us out there for the wraithclaw but you didn’t. And for that you have my thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Ford.” Multi-Bear replied as he turned to lumber back into the forest. “You and your brother stay out of trouble now!” He yelled over his shoulder as he reached the treeline. After watching the bear disappear into the woods, Ford glanced down at Stan to level the bruises rapidly darkening the right side of his face with a considering look.

“That’s not gonna be possible for a while.” Ford muttered to himself as he used a foot to push the door open; it still hanging half open in his mad dash from the house. He kicked the door shut behind him and quickly ascended the stairs. Ford carefully laid Stan onto the couch in his room, turning him onto his left side to reduce the pressure on the wounds that, with a nasty twist of fate, were mostly isolated to the right side of his body. Ford nearly tripped over Stan’s coat that he had thrown haphazardly onto the floor as he left the room to search for the first aid kit. It was kept stocked more extensively than a standard one after too many visits to the hospital caused by encounters with the creatures of Gravity Falls, and Ford thanked every deity he could think of for having the foresight to resupply it before everything had gone down with Bill. He used a pair of sharp medical scissors to quickly slice through Stan’s t-shirt, figuring it to be the least painful way to get it off. Before tugging it away he cut a thin ring of cloth around the gaping hole in his shirt, keeping his eyes carefully averted from the sigil that had been perfectly seared onto Stan’s back.

Ford peered at his brother’s chest in concern when he saw the mottled bruises starting to curl around his rib cage. Carefully he probed each rib, wincing every time Stan unconsciously flinched away from the pressure. Ford breathed a sigh of relief as he found only cracks and no full breaks, but frowned as he noticed a number of scars littering his side and back. Most appeared to be knife-marks; ranging in size from small nicks to jagged slices, Ford concluded in dismay. And as if Ford wasn’t disturbed enough, his eyes suddenly focused onto an odd-looking white scar on Stan’s back just beneath his ribcage. He leaned in for a closer look and noted the mostly circular shape of the scar with a confused frown, noticing a matching one on the front side of Stan’s body. Comparing the marks with a critical eye, Ford thought that they appeared to have come from…

“…a bullet?” Ford murmured out loud, his mouth falling slack in shock when he processed his own words. Ford sat hard on the ground next to the couch, feeling wetness burn at the corners of his eyes as the blood in his veins turned to ice. At some point in the ten years since Ford had last seen him, Stan had gotten shot.

Someone had tried to kill his brother.

Ford would have to be a complete drooling moron not to realize that Stan had gotten into some unsavory dealings after getting kicked out by their father all those years ago; his genius level IQ wasn’t necessary to figure that one out.

 But he _never_ expected this.

Ford looked back down at the scar, numbly noting that its position suggested the bullet had barely missed Stan’s right kidney. Ford knew how easy it was to bleed out from a kidney wound and was struck hard by just how narrowly Stan had avoided death.

“Oh God…” Ford whispered with a shudder, tears streaking down his face as a wave of nausea washed over him.

 _Get a grip, Ford!_ He berated himself internally. _There’s nothing you can do about an old wound; focus on what you_ can _fix._

Ford took a much-needed calming breath, wiped the tears from his face with the heel of his palm, and moved his gaze away from the bullet scars. Ford pushed himself back into a kneeling position and focused on Stan’s oddly drooping shoulder, turning Stan slightly so he could better examine it. The way the joint was angled made it clear to Ford that it was dislocated, and he gently set Stan back on his side.

Ford knew the exact temperature of the warding sigil that had burned Stan and already calculated how badly it damaged Stan’s skin through his jacket and shirt, so he didn’t need to check it over.

…Or look too hard at it.

Ford turned around to look at the open first aid kit sitting behind him, quickly setting aside everything he would need to treat and bandage Stan’s wounds. Ford didn’t know how deeply Stan had been rendered senseless by his collision with the tree; so he couldn’t tell whether Stan would wake up in the middle of the likely painful process of Ford treating his wounds or remain unconscious for the duration.

With no way to administer the painkillers he had on hand while Stan was out cold, Ford _really_ hoped it would be the latter.

Ford started kneading the muscles around Stan’s shoulder to loosen them up, giving him a sympathetic look when Stan started to groan quietly in pain. He hated to do this to Stan but judging purely from his own experiences with getting injuries tended, Ford typically found it was better to get the more painful ones out of the way first.

Though he would tell you to go straight to hell if you reminded him he said that in the middle of getting a dislocated joint realigned with its socket.

Ford extended Stan’s forearm down to rest across his stomach, gripping Stan’s elbow and wrist so he could properly slide Stan’s shoulder back into place. Ford looked over at Stan’s face, momentarily releasing his grip on his twin’s wrist to impulsively run his fingers through Stan’s hair to comfort him, like he would after a nasty nightmare when they were kids; though the gesture was more for himself as Stan wasn’t nearly aware enough to be soothed by it. Not wanting to delay any more than he already had, Ford began to rotate his brother’s arm to ease the joint back into place.

For the second time that night, Stan’s agonized scream echoed through the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan wakes up after his ordeal...

_Stan was leaning over the Stan O’ War’s bow on his elbows, his gaze drifting out over the water to look at the sun beginning its evening descent in the sky. The golden light flickered and danced on the blue waters of the ocean, the tranquil waves making the ship sway gently from side to side. Stan breathed in the salty tang of the air and sighed in pure contentment, turning slightly to look at his brother standing at the helm._

_“This is the life, huh Stanf-?“Stan’s voice stopped abruptly as he noticed that his twin was nowhere to be found, frowning worriedly when he saw only the wheel spinning unchecked._

_“Stanford?” Stan called in puzzled concern, walking swiftly to the helm and stopping its motion.He waited for his brother to reply but heard only the creaking of the ship and the lapping of the waves at the hull. Suddenly the sailboat tilted hard to the right, making Stan skid on the slippery planks of the deck._

_“Shit!” Stan yelled, grasping desperately at a rope flying loose from the mast. He breathed a choked sigh of relief before noticing the boom of the sail swinging in a swift arc around the boat just seconds before it struck him hard. The blow sent Stan flying straight over the side of the ship and into the ocean, sinking deep into the now inky black water. Stan floated motionlessly underwater for a few seconds, dazed from his abrupt departure from the deck of the Stan O’ War before his mind resharpened with a jolt. Shocked into action, Stan began to swim hard for what he desperately hoped was the direction to the surface. As he swam, Stan became increasingly more and more unnerved by the warm temperature and strangely thick consistency of the water._

_It felt like he was swimming in blood._

_Stan felt a jolt of panic race through him as he felt his chest start to burn in desperate need of air. The motion of his limbs sped up but then gradually began to slow as he burned through the little oxygen he managed to inhale before falling overboard. Just as Stan’s awareness began to ebb away he burst through the ocean’s surface, taking several greedy gulps of air. As Stan pumped his legs frenziedly to keep his head above the waves, he looked up at the stormy gray thunderclouds darkening the sky in mounting fear. The sun was still in the same position, only now it cast a vivid red glow that the water eerily refused to reflect._

_“Stanford!” Stan yelled desperately, hoping against hope that his voice could be heard over the crashing of the waves. But he saw nothing; not one single sign of Ford anywhere in the shadowy water. Stan suddenly felt a warning chill go down his spine, and spun around in the water to watch the sun grow a circular pupil at its centre and focus intently on him. A deafening screech rang out over the ocean and Stan felt something slimy curl around his ankle._

_“Stanford, help m-!” But he couldn’t complete his sentence before he was yanked beneath the waves. Stan sunk like a ten ton stone through the greasy water, feeling the speed of his descent to the bottom of the ocean rapidly increase even as he tried to counter it by swimming upward. A shocked breath rushed into his lungs when he abruptly broke free from the water and flew in an arc through the air. Stan landed hard on solid ground and rolled for a few feet before coming to a stop._

_“Owww.” Stan groaned, his voice muffled as he lay face down in the…snow? Stan frowned in confusion as he warily got to his feet, looking around to find he stood in the middle of a clearing surrounded by twisted black trees. Stan flinched hard when he heard grating, maniacal laughter ring out from somewhere deep in the forest. Stan knew he was a sitting duck for whatever lurked into shadows if he stayed in the clearing, so he picked the direction he figured was most opposite from where the laughter had come from and began running._

_After several seconds of sprinting like the devil himself was after him Stan turned to check over his shoulder, his heart racing in double-time when he saw two glowing red pinpricks in the distance rapidly getting closer and closer. Stan made himself run even faster but he wasn’t putting any distance between him and the creature, his eyes widening in dismay as he saw a steep cliff blocking his path. Stan frantically pawed at the rock face, looking for handholds so he could at least try climbing his way to safety, but found nothing but smooth stone. A branch suddenly snapped behind him, and Stan slowly turned around only to be paralyzed by a pair of crimson eyes staring back at him from the shadows. The creature pinned him with its menacing gaze for a long moment before it started lumbering forward into the moonlight. Stan watched in confused horror as the monster’s eyes began drifting downward, shifting to glowing yellow cat eyes with a blink once they had settled at his eye level. All Stan could feel was the rapid thudding of his heart as the creature finally stepped out of the treeline, the shadows parting to reveal…_

_“…Stanford?” Stan said bewilderedly, his prior confusion fading rapidly into fear as the disturbing cackling he’d heard screeched from Ford’s mouth. Moving faster than Stan’s eyes could track, Ford suddenly stood two inches away from him with a twisted smile on his face. Ford grabbed Stan by the collar and hoisted him up in the air._

_“GOT TO HAND IT TO OL’ SIXER,” Ford said in a demonic sounding voice. “I DIDN’T THINK HE HAD THE GUTS TO DO SOMETHING THIS TWISTED.” Stan felt his back start to sweat as powerful heat emanated from the cliff wall behind him, seeing part of a weird glowing symbol etched into the stone out the corner of his eye._

_“Stanford!” Stan pleaded as he tried frantically to loosen Ford’s iron grip. “Please let me go!” But Ford just grinned up at him with cruel amusement in his yellow eyes, completely indifferent to Stan’s struggles._

_“JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU KNOW A GUY.” Ford tsked with wicked delight._

_And slammed Stan backwards onto the rock face._

~~~

A choked gasp for breath split the silence of the room as Stan woke up with a start. Still gripped by the fear of the rapidly fading nightmare, he instinctively curled into a defensive position on his side. Pain suddenly lanced through Stan’s upper body like a wildfire through dry brush.

“Aarggh,’” Stan groaned and gently eased back into a resting position on his back, registering the weight of a heavy blanket covering his shaking body. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, mentally cataloguing the multiple aches and pains that made themselves known throughout his body. Stan felt the throb of cracked ribs every time he inhaled, but was puzzled to find the pain far more bearable than he would’ve expected. Stan opened his eyes and tried to shift so he could probe at his ribs only to suddenly notice his right arm held quite firmly in place across his abdomen.

“What?” Stan whispered, gingerly tipping his pounding head forward to look down at his arm, resting securely in a sling made out of a length of gray cloth tied around his neck. Stan tried tentatively to extend his arm, choking back another groan when he felt a jolt of pain flare up in his shoulder. “Owww,” Stan hissed in pain, taking quick, shallow breaths for a few seconds before the pain swiftly settled. Keeping his right arm still, Stan reached over with his left hand and lightly brushed his fingers against his ribs. He felt the texture of soft cotton bandages, recognizing it as the source of the gentle pressure on his ribcage that was bracing his injured ribs.

_What the hell happened?_ Stan thought confusedly to himself as he looked around to see what he could of the room he had woken up in, the weak light of the moon illuminating the space somewhat. At the foot of the couch he was resting on he saw an end-table with a lamp sitting on it, an ugly blue shag rug on the floor, a small table with a couple of chairs around it off to the side of the room, and a long wooden cabinet holding a few half-full decanters and a framed photo sitting next to what Stan assumed was the door out of here. 

And just like that, all the memories came rushing back.

Stan used his left hand to cover his face with a pained groan when all of the events that led to him waking up in this strange room assaulted his mind one after the other, sending waves of pain throbbing through his head.

He remembered the long drive from New Mexico to Oregon, still not entirely sure how he managed to not get a single speeding ticket on the way. He remembered feeling so nervous and excited as he knocked on the front door of the house belonging to the brother he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager, only to have a loaded crossbow pointed in his face. He remembered fighting with Ford; feeling so stupidly hurt that Ford only asked him here to take his journal and get lost, even after ten long years of being apart. Stan felt a short, bitter laugh tear free from his throat.

He should’ve figured something like this would happen.                                 

Feeling an odd sensation on his shoulder blade, Stan reached back to find a thick, white bandage taped over the flesh of his shoulder. He pressed on it slightly and immediately snatched his hand away as burning pain re-awoke for long seconds before settling back into a dull throb. Stan sighed sadly as the memory of how _that_ had happened returned to him as well.

“Guess it wasn’t a dream.” Stan whispered to the empty room, and then froze as he realized that the memory of getting snatched up by a monster and thrown into a tree probably wasn’t a dream either. Stan let out a disbelieving chuckle.

Like this situation needed to get anymore fucked.

So what now? Clearly Ford cared enough about him to save him from the monster and bring him back here to fix him up, but did that really mean anything?  Ford didn’t care about him when he watched him get thrown out of their house and told to never come back without a word in protest. Ford didn’t care about him the ten years he spent on the streets, contacting him only when he wanted something from him. And Ford _definitely_ didn’t care about him when he told Stan exactly how worthless he thought his life was and then burnt the shit out of his shoulder.

Stan was sure there a _lot_ he didn’t know about all the crazy shit that Ford had gotten himself into in this backwoods town, but he could tell that it wasn’t good. You don’t point a crossbow at anyone who has the misfortune of knocking on your front door or build an inter-dimensional portal in your basement if you’re spending all your time prancing around with unicorns and fairies. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Ford had messed around with something he shouldn’t have and gotten in _way_ over his head, but so what? Ford wanted him to leave with his dumb book barely five minutes after he’d rolled into town, so clearly he didn’t want his presence _or_ his help.

And honestly? Stan was just so tired of it all. Tired of living every day feeling like no-one in the world cared about him; tired of hoping that one day Ford would forgive him and they could be brothers again; tired of being punished for an accident that screwed his future a hundred times worse than it screwed Ford’s.

Just…tired.

Now typically, Stan didn’t give a flying fuck whether or not he was welcome somewhere if he’d decided that’s where he wanted to be. But right now it was literally painful to be where he was obviously not wanted, so he figured it would be best for everyone if he just left now before this godforsaken town decided to finish him off. Using his left arm he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clenching his jaw from the pain the motion sent through his ribs. Out the corner of his eye Stan caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window next to the couch and turned to face it fully.

_Yikes._

The entire right side of his face was mottled with dark bruises; starting at his temple, curling around his eye, and ending at his jawline. He carefully peeled back the white bandage taped to his temple and gingerly probed the line of black sutures that ran diagonally through his eyebrow with his index finger. He locked eyes with his reflection for a long moment before mentally shrugging. He’d looked worse, and at least he’d get a cool-looking scar from this if nothing else.

Though he didn’t really want to think about what the scar on his back would look like.

Stan kicked the blanket off onto the floor and spun to rest his feet on the rug. He sat there for a few moments to catch his breath and looked over to see his jacket draped over the far end of the couch. Bracing a hand on the cushion Stan deftly pushed himself upward into a standing position, though the pain and exhaustion from his ordeal made him sway on his feet somewhat. Stan carefully walked over to his jacket and grabbed it with his left hand, threading his arm into the sleeve before draping the right side over his shoulder and sling-bound arm. He looked down at the table to notice a clock that had been hidden by his jacket. Stan had to squint in order to read it with nothing but the weak moonlight filtering through the window, but after a few moments Stan finally deciphered the time as 4:07 AM _._

_Probably late enough that I can sneak out without having to deal with Ford,_ Stan thought with a practicality that completely belied the bitter sadness sinking in to his very bones as he looked around for his boots. He spied them sitting next to the table, so he took a seat in one of the chairs and started to lace them up as best he could with one good hand. Looking across the table Stan saw yet another decanter sitting on the table, with no glasses anywhere in sight.

“Damn, Ford.” Stan said with instinctive concern for his brother as he picked up the bottle to study it, letting out a low whistle when he saw how strong it was.  “Hundred proof whiskey isn’t really stuff you want to knock back straight from the bottle…” He expertly pried out the stopper and took a long swig, grimacing as the liquor burned down his throat. “…I’ve been told.” He finished dryly.

Stan sat for a few minutes and took another drink; just enough to take his mind off the pain and fatigue travelling through his body in shudders. Stan got to his feet again a little easier this time, and began to walk slowly toward the door. He turned the doorknob and carefully pulled it open, trying to make as little noise as possible as he crept out of the room. He stumbled suddenly and gripped the doorframe to catch himself, breathing through the pain that spiked suddenly through his body. He wiped his sweaty brow on his jacket sleeve and couldn’t stop the replay of the night’s events from racing through his mind.

The more pieces he got of what Ford had been through in this place, the harder it became to ignore his deep-rooted protective instincts for his brother. Ford drinking hard liquor was like a cat singing a beautiful rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow in the shower; unnatural to the point of being alarming. Though he supposed a lot changed in ten years.

He was living proof of that, after all.

And Stan pretended not to notice earlier but he’d seen the deep black circles under Ford’s eyes, as well as an alarming crust of dried blood rimmed around his right eye. Stan had no idea what the blood was from and wasn’t sure he wanted to know at this point; but Stan knew exactly what Ford looked like when he was sleep-deprived, and tonight he’d looked like he was on the edge of dropping dead from exhaustion.  

But it wasn’t enough to make him reconsider his decision to leave. 

Even after Ford ignored him for over ten years, Stan still cared. Even after all the bullshit Ford had put him through tonight, Stan still cared. But what difference did it make? The fact remained that Ford had only wanted him here long enough to take the book and go; just enough time for Stan to get his hopes up like a _fucking moron._ And Stan was pretty goddamn sure that the fistfight he’d picked over the damn thing had done fuck all to change Ford’s mind. He was willing to bet that Ford would be more relieved than anything else when he inevitably came to check on him and found the room empty.

Just an annoyance that he didn’t need to waste his time on anymore.

_Then why did he follow you to the woods?_ A persistent voice whispered from the back of Stan’s mind. _If he really wanted to be rid of you he would’ve just let you go._ Stan felt a faint stirring of hope start to reform in his chest before he ruthlessly quashed it. For all he knew, Ford just chased him down out of some misplaced sense of guilt for burning him. Yet that stubborn voice refused to quit. 

So he just ignored it.

Besides, even if he _was_ stupid enough to offer Ford his help with whatever trouble he’d gotten himself caught up in, Stan didn’t think he could handle the inevitable rejection. It would just be salt in the wounds, almost literally, and Stan thought he’d suffered enough for one night.

Stan straightened and carefully began walking again, keeping a steadying hand on the wall of the hallway as he went. If Stan noticed the pain in his body steadily increasing with each shaky step he took then he paid it no mind.

It was time to leave all of this behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos on my story! I notice every one and I really appreciate them :) In this chapter I tried to capture how hopeless and lost Stan must be feeling after everything that's happened, so keep in mind that a lot of what's going through Stan's head this chapter may be influenced by the really negative outlook he has right now. I really hope it came out right.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter! :3
> 
> P.S. Updates are probably gonna be somewhat sporadic for the foreseeable future as I'm just about to start school again, and don't know how much time I'll have to work on this.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm really excited to be sharing this story with you guys as I've been thinking of writing it for a while now. This is the first Gravity Falls fanfiction I've ever posted so please try not to shit all over it TOO badly lol. Btw this hasn't been beta-read so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> P.S. Come talk to me on my slightly-below-average blog, vestorthedestroyer.tumblr.com


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